By the pricking of my thumbs'
by Princess-Arulmozhi
Summary: JA timeline. Obi-Wan undergoes a trial – will he win, or won’t he?
1. Default Chapter

**Title: 'By the pricking of my thumbs...'  
****Author: PrincessArulmozhi  
****Timeframe: JA. Obi-Wan's 19.  
****Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn  
****Genre: Hmm. Humour? Mush? A bit of both, I think.  
****Summary: Obi-Wan learns...to sew. Among other things. Mostly other things.  
****Notes: Technically, this was my first fic - and as I've never read any of the JA/JQ/whatever books, I apologize for blunder(s) committed.  
****Disclaimer: I make no money out of this, and the characters belong to George Lucas.  
****Note 2: ' - ' Indicates conversation via bond. **

**BY THE PRICKING OF MY THUMBS...**

**Part 1**

"Argh."

Obi-Wan Kenobi dropped the needle and sucked his finger, on which a bright red spot of blood had promptly appeared. "Oh, blast."

_-Padawan? Is something wrong?_-

_And double blast._ He had forgotten to raise his shields. But what was his master doing, eavesdropping on his mind?

_-No, master. Nothing is the matter_.-

_-The truth, Obi-Wan_.-

_-When have I ever lied to you?_-

_-50, 678 times_.-

Obi-wan blinked. -_You actually kept count?_-

_-Don't change the subject, Padawan mine. And the truth - what have you done now?_-

_-Aside from pricking myself with this sith-blasted needle for about the thousandth time, nothing else, Master_.-

A mental sigh, though flecked with amusement. -_Language, Obi-Wan, language_.-

_-I do try, master. But it's hard to, with this new-fangled assignment you've seen fit to torture me with_.-

_-Ah. Ingenuity is my middle name, young one_.-

Obi-Wan snorted. -_I could think of better names, revered Master mine_.-

_-I'm well aware of your proficiency with nicknames. Never try that with me, though.-_

Obi-Wan knelt down to pick up the errant needle from the floor, and ended up meshing it further into the carpeting. Stifling a curse, he pressed his finger firmly on it, and succeeded in bringing it up, firmly stuck to his finger. -_Considering the leisurely way in which you're taking this conversation, Master...I gather the seminar isn't going well_.-

_-On the contrary, Padawan, it is going exceedingly well_.-

_-Ah_.-

There was a brief pause, during which Obi-Wan re-doubled his efforts to thread the needle. A smile apeared on his face as he waited.

_-As a matter of fact...-_His Master's mental voice trailed away.

_-Yes, Master_-

_-I have a sore back, the Twi'lek to my left is snoring, and the speaker is an enthusiastic Corellian who insists on his audience receiving a bath_.-

Ob-Wan's smile grew. -_A bath-_

_-Each word is a watery assault. And I'm seated in the front row_.-

Obi-Wan raised his eyes in mock anguish. -_My poor Master. Though I must admit you deserve this_.-

_-Insolent wretch_.-

_-If you will insist on being one of the best swordsmen in the Galaxy, Master - together with being one of the most dignified members of the Most Enlightened Order of Force-Sensitive Beings...a lecture on 'The intricacies of Sebullian Funeral Customs' isn't something you can escape.-_

_-Such impudence, Padawan. Remind me to set you on kitchen duty the rest of this month_.-

_-Thank the Force. We'll have Non-Charcoal toast the whole month_.-

_-And cleaning the refresher tanks for the next six weeks_.-

A pause. -_Pardon me, Master. No unsavoury word regarding your accomplishments will ever pass my lips again_.-

_-Why am I not particularly glad at that statement?_-

_-You possess an unnaturally suspicious nature, Master. As well as one that exults in torture. I've pricked my finger again_.-

_-Which merely indicates that you're not doing it right. Take the thread and...ease it into the needle's eye. I did, after all, demonstrate it to you_.-

Squinting, Obi-Wan brought the thread slowly to the needle, poked it in...to see it appear on the other side - apparently without having passed through the eye at all. He sighed.

_-Careful padawan. There's a storm rising_.-

_-I was sighing, Master_.-

_-Indeed. For a moment I imagined myself on Tyrne IV, known for its typhoons_.-

_-I would much rather **be** on Tyrne IV, typhoon or not_.-

_-Patience, young one. Remember why I gave this assignment to you, in the first place_.-

Obi-Wan raised tortured eyes to the ceiling. -_To drive me out of my mind, once and for all?_-

_-A praiseworthy object, though not stricly accurate. Try again_.-

The Padawan sent his thoughts to a week in the past.

They had been sparring...

_To be continued..._


	2. Part 2

**Part 2 **

At any rate, they had tried to.

A week earlier, they had returned to Coruscant after what had, in both their opinions, been an irritating mission at best, complicated by exhaustion. Several warring factions on Nelth V, to which freezing planet they had been sent, served to break down negotiations - resulting in a whole-sale riot which the Jedi Master, in a rare fit of irritation, had described as a '_no holds-barred brawl - and one in which our younglings would have conducted themselves better.' _

Obi-Wan had not felt so charitable. A gash in his side caused during said 'brawl' had not made things any better - he had to admit that it might have been worse, if Qui-Gon had not despatched his attacker in short order. As it was, the injury had been serious enough to force him to spend the hours travelling back home in a healing trance. Returning to the city-planet invoked mixed feelings in him - he was glad to step inside the Temple, which had a calming influence on him - but had he been given a choice to spend a week in meditation, or a day at the healers - he would have taken the first choice without a murmur.

Events, however, had proceeded fairly smoothly. Qui-Gon left to meet the Council, having assured himself that Obi-Wan received medical treatment - fortunately, the latter's presence had not been insisted upon. The apprentice had submitted, after extracting a promise from Healer Han'yaie that a ward would not be named after him.

Reports, meetings and de-briefings followed, and a day later, the council had pronounced itself satisfied with the proceedings - excepting the riot. It was the tentative opinion of one or two honoured members that this could have been avoided. Fortunately, Master Windu and Yoda put their foot and claws down for once, claiming that all had been done that could have been done, and if the citizens of Nelth V derived amusement from butchering themselves against all reason - it was cold enough for that - then so be it.

And Qui-Gon had left, filled with relief that the demands of protocol had been satisfied.

The master's thoughts had then returned to his apprentice as he watched over Obi-Wan, recovering from the after-effects of Nelth V. Two days later Obi-Wan returned to normal - he seemed to have recovered his appetite, at any rate - and the master decided that they would proceed with their lawful pursuits. As far as possible.

Their day had begun ordinarily - considering both master's and apprentice's reputation for seemingly normal situations turning awry. Qui-Gon had risen at his usual unearthly hour, and had succeeded in rousing his drowsy apprentice - he had simply Force-rolled the young man out of bed, sheets floating in mid-air.

Obi-Wan briefly considered a show of in-subordination - but decided against it. Irritation was extremely un-Jedi-like...and might, possibly, result in hours of meditation on his wrong-doings. And meditation, he decided, was the last thing he wanted to do. _Sleep, now_, he mused. _That wouldn't be too bad. _

"Obi-Wan," came the call of his master's voice from the kitchen. "I'm not going to allow you to take up permanent residence within your sleeping quarters, so you may as well step out."

Obi-Wan stifled a yawn and dragged his unco-operative legs into the refresher.

Qui-Gon walked out from the kitchen, in time to see his apprentice vanish through the doorway, sleep-robe trailing along the floor. Smiling, he set out the dishes on the tiny, space saving table in the common living area.

_I wonder if he's ready for it_, he mused. _I was, when I first encountered it...but then, I was considerably older. Old enough to concede defeat. I wonder if- _

His ponderings came to an abrupt end as Obi-Wan walked into the living area, fully dressed. "I'm ready, Master." He turned his attention to the braid falling to his chest, intent on adjusting it.

Qui-Gon paused in the midst of re-arranging the plates, looking at him. An incident had chosen to unfold within his mind...

_Delra Ti. _

A not-so-popular little planet, tucked away in a corner of the Decura Sector. The Temple had sent them both to pick up a contact - why he had chosen such a place to be picked up had not been revealed to them. Ambush had occurred as they were hurrying all a narrow cliff-path towards their ship, waiting on a broader ledge - within a second, master and apprentice conferred among themselves, reaching a decision. Obi-Wan would hold the attackers at bay, while Qui-Gon rushed the shivering 'contact' to safety.

There were ten in all - ten brawny yellow-brown beings, brandishing weapons in both hands - aided by a horn on their foreheads - a peculiar part of their anatomy, of which they seemed inordinately proud. It had its uses, certainly, as Obi-Wan found out. Keeping twenty odd weapons and ten horns from making contact with his body did not exactly fall within the bounds of a sparring exercise. Still...

Qui-Gon watched the battle out of the corner of his eye, as he helped their contact within the ship. As soon as he was certain that the humanoid was safe, he ran out, his light sabre activated.

Obi-Wan had managed to route out four of their attackers, and Qui-Gon joined him in pushing their way through four more. Each found themselves engaged in fighting the last two - who seemed to possess a single-mindedness worthy of a Jedi, as far as battle went. Neither would yield ground, and the master saw his apprentice tiring. Obi-Wan sported two or three impressive injuries on his arms and one on his forehead - it was time to end this.

The master swung his blade neatly in an arc through the air, and as expected, the Delran threw his own battle-axe to counter the blow. A swift kick in the abdomen brought him to his knees, and the light sabre crashed down, neatly cleaving the axe in two.

_Nine down. One to go. Unless Obi-Wan had finished him- _

He had not.

Qui-Gon swung around to see Obi-Wan fall back at a mighty swing of the Delran Battle-axe, and clutch the craggy mountain-face for support. Quelling a brief spurt of unease, the master launched himself against the last Delran warrior.

_To the left. Slash. Block. Left again. Advance. Block. Regain stance and... _

_Strike. _

There. It was done. Not dead, but that hand would never raise a battle-ax again. He drew a deep breath, suddenly feeling weak as the moment passed. Now for Obi-Wan. Stumbling a little - his ankle had twisted itself, he remembered vaguely, and there was blood soaking his tunic from a gash in his arm - he took a step towards the cliff-face.

"Padawan, are you alright?" he tried to reach his apprentice through the Force, assessing his injuries. "What-"

He was tired, and he hadn't been careful. He had been worried about Obi-Wan - and that was probably why he hadn't sensed the last Delran stagger to his feet, raising his battle-axe...

...with his left hand.

_Oh, how stupid - especially for a Jedi Master_, he remembered thinking idly, as he watched the enemy swing his weapon into the air. He was too close.

_Too near, yet too far, Obi-Wan. _

His arms felt like lead. _Cannot raise my sabre. Wonder why. Oh yes, blood-loss. _

_I wonder if it's too painful... _

There was an other-wordly shriek from somewhere behind him - to his right. Something streaked past him in a whirl of brown and tan. He blinked.

_Obi-Wan? _

The whirling dervish resolved into a young man -a young man who suddenly materialised in front of the Delran. His sapphire sabre rose to meet the Delran axe - swished into the air, leaving a trail of blue - cut into the weapon - as well as the Delran himself.

The battle ax clattered to the ground in five pieces. The Delran looked down on himself, surprised at the blood that had suddenly appeared on his stomach. Mouth agape, he fell into a crumpled heap.

Qui-gon fell to his knees, considerably weakened. _-Obi-Wan...- _

The young man twirled around on his heels, his robe fluttering behind him in a graceful arc, his boots scrunching on the earthen floor. His right hand was well away from his body, still holding the activated light-sabre, the blue colour enhancing glittering blue-green eyes. The setting sun of Delra Ti fell beneath the horizon, sending soft, golden rays over the cliff-path, lending an aura of pure light to his form for a brief moment.

_An angel of light_, Qui-gon thought inconsequentially. _Now I know what they look like. _

And then there was nothing.

"Master?" Obi-Wan was waving his hands in front of Qui-Gon's face, chuckling. "Coruscant to Master Jinn, who seems to have lost his bearings..."

Qui-Gon snapped back to the present, heaving a deep breath.

"Focus, master," intoned his padawan. "The here and now. It is only the present that matters..."

Qui-Gon smiled, swatting a napkin at the chuckling apprentice.

_What have I been thinking? Of course the boy is ready. _


	3. Part 3

**Part 3**

Morning meal at an end, master and apprentice made their way to the training salles - or so Obi-Wan thought. They were walking along a particularly wide Temple corridor that led to one of them - when Qui-Gon turned to his left, into a smaller pathway that branched away from the bigger one.

"Master?" Obi-Wan queried as he walked faster to catch up with his master's longer strides, yet keeping to the custom that demanded that he be two steps behind him.

"Yes, padawan?"

"I thought we were going to spar."

"We are. At least, you are."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan frowned, trying to make sense of this statement. _Was he going to spar with someone else, then? _"The training rooms are further along the _E'erhul_ Corridor, master."

"I'm well aware of that fact, padawan." Qui-Gon threw the younger Jedi a look of amusement. "My residence here is of some duration, I believe."

Obi-Wan grinned. "I wouldn't know. 'Temporary residence' would describe it more accurately."

"Ours is a 'hop-skip-and-jump' existance at best," the master admitted, smiling. "but then...that is our way."

Obi-Wan's gaze was centred on an intricate geometric design - one of the few embellishments allowed on the pillars supporting the pathways, inside the Temple. "Of course." he murmured.

Qui-Gon cast a glance at him. "Our lives are committed to duty, Obi-Wan," he spoke as though striving to drive away an unseen, unacknowledged unease. "Very few are chosen for that path - it is an honour."

"I know, master."

"And yet...?"

Obi-Wan bit his lip. "I'm..." He stopped.

"Unsettled. I know."

The apprentice raised his eyes. "That's wrong, isn't it?"

"Wrong? I wouldn't say that. The rest of the galaxy may view us as iron men, endowed with supernatural powers and capable of unheard of feats...but the Jedi are only human. We have our moments - oh, more than a normal being could ever guess. A life of duty may sound intriguing to some," he chuckled, and Obi-Wan smiled in response. "but one sometimes longs for something a little more..."

"Mundane?"

"That wasn't the word I was thinking of."

"Neither was I. More along the lines of..." Obi-Wan paused. There was that fleeting feeling of irritation again. Restlessness? Unease? Why? "I don't know... I can't describe it."

"And you find that perplexing. Disturbing."

Qui-Gon had come closer to the truth than his apprentice would have liked. "Perhaps. I ought to meditate on it."

"Meditation is a cure for unease, in most cases..." Qui-Gon paused. "But I was thinking along other lines. Speaking of which," he stopped in front of a small doorway, plain in appearance. "We've arrived at our destination."

00000000000000

Obi-Wan raised his eye-brows as the door opened, and they stepped inside. Considerably smaller than the average training room, it had one another sterling quality - barring a mat that covered the floor, it was completely featureless.

"I've never been here," he remarked as he walked over the mat, testing it out. It had a soft, springy quality - almost at once, he realised that it must be one of those used in a regular training room. "Is this a training room too? It's quite small."

"Small, yes," Qui-Gon answered, as he busied himself in a corner of the room, shedding his robe. "It will serve our purpose, however, for the present. All the other training rooms are occupied continuously."

"There's always enough space for a pair, master."

"At the moment, privacy is of more importance - at least, I thought it would be. There'll always be time for a display in public."

Display in public? Obi-Wan pursed his lips. -_Ah, the famed Jinn-inscrutability is in evidence, I suppose_.- he voiced through their bond. -_As is usual, I couldn't make out head or tail of that last statement, master_.-

-_A little suspense never hurt anyone, padawan. Adds variety to the spice of life, don't you think? And no more smart remarks about my inscrutability. It's an excellent weapon - you know it_.-

-_Only on missions - and it didn't seem to work on Nelth V_.- Obi-Wan sent a chuckle along the bond.

-_Do not mention Nelth V again. That is not a planet - it's a freezing excuse for an asteroid, and the beings existing on it are just that - beings. As a Jedi, I grant them that concession. Others wouldn't_.-

Obi-Wan grinned. -_You won't find me disagreeing on that point. What was that about variety and the spice of life, though_-

-_Trust me, padawan_.-

-_Don't I, always_-

-_A debatable point_.-

Obi-Wan gave in to laughter, at this. "Unfair, master," he said.

Qui-Gon smiled, walking along the perimeter of the training-mat. "A little, perhaps."

"Are we waiting for someone?" Obi-Wan asked, removing his robe, folding it and placing it carefully, along the wall.

"Something, rather."

"What thing?"

Qui-Gon had opened his mouth to answer, when a chime sounded, indicating the arrival of a visitor. The master moved towards the door, and opened it to reveal another Jedi - Knight Donan, a blonde human built on generous lines, and older than Obi-Wan by about ten years. He stepped in, bowing to both master and apprentice, and handed Qui-Gon a small, circular box of a gleaming silver colour.

"Master Yoda asked that I deliver it to you personally," he explained, as Qui-Gon took the box. "And here is the key. I apologize for being late, though - I was required to sign and countersign several records regarding its removal."

"That was only to be expected. Thank you, Knight Donan."

"It was no trouble, Master Jinn." Knight Donan hesitated, his eyes flying to Obi-Wan, and then back to Qui-Gon. "It's for him, isn't it?"

Qui-Gon threw a glance at Obi-Wan, hesitating the barest second. "Yes."

A smile lit up the placid features. "I hope you succeed." He turned to obi-Wan and bowed deeply. "I wish you the best." Obi-Wan bowed in return.

The Knight excused himself, and the apprentice turned his attention to his master, brows knit.

"I'm beginning to feel like a crecheling in the midst of an exotic angel-tale," he commented. "What is in that box, why must the Artifact-keeper of the Jedi Temple deliver it to you in person - especially instructed by Master Yoda - and why do I need Knight Donan's best wishes?"

Qui-Gon chuckled. "Impatience was ever your undoing," he said as he turned the box at a certain angle, located an array of tiny buttons, and began pressing them in a pre-arranged pattern. Obi-Wan approached him, curious.

"You're not going to tell me what it contains, are you?" he spoke, taking in the silvery smoothness.

"Considering that you'll see it in a moment-" Qui-Gon inserted a finely crafted silver key inside a small key-hole, beside the buttons. The lid of the box moved up with a slight hiss. "Ah, it's open."

Obi-Wan stood close to his master, as the latter twisted the lid off carefully, placed a hand inside the box, and brought out something in the palm of his hand.

"What is it?" Obi-Wan asked, eagerness and curiosity striving for supremacy in his eyes.

Qui-Gon moved away from the box, opened his palm, and jerked it - releasing the object into the air. As Obi-Wan watched in amazement, it - whatever it was - jumped towards the ceiling, zipped to the left, then right - and finally slowed down, hovering in the air, exactly in his line of sight. The apprentice blinked.

Qui-Gon smiled. "_The Ischila_."

**A/N:  
**jedi keliam kenobi,amber75 : Thank you -) And here's your update.  
Rieyeuxs : You have? Wow. Sure, it'll get updated here. -)  
DarkKnight92: Thanks.  
Pokey1984: You'll know, soon -)  
Shadow131: Thank you so much-) I love the title, myself - it's connected, in more ways than one. -)


	4. Part 4

**Note:** A slight change. Sentences within '/' indicate thoughts via bond.

* * *

**Part 4 **

_The Ischila. _

Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath, dusting the mental cobwebs that had accumulated around old, classroom memories of ancient artifacts, the legends surrounding them, and the beings involved in the propagation of such legends. The Ischila had been among the most prominent that he had heard - and the vaguest.

They were taught to question facts and ascertain the truth or otherwise of the things they came across - but questioning ancient legends was different. The stories surrounding them were uncertain enough - how did one verify legends?

He stared at the tiny thing that danced about his eyes, trying to assess it. He remembered descriptions of it - even then, reality was very far from what he had learnt. As if in contradiction to the size of the legends surrounding it, the Ischila itself was remarkably small - only the size of a child's marble. And much more colourful. Deep blue and green shades, entwined with purple and orange swirled through its depths as it whizzed around him, seemingly unable to stay in one place.

_So small_, was Obi-Wan's first thought as he stretched out towards it, through the force. Somehow, he didn't think of taking it in his hand - he felt instinctively that it would evade his grasp._ So very...small _- _and beautiful. _

_/Appearances are deceptive, padawan_./

_/So I've learnt, master. From you_./

A brief smile was his answer. /_What do you remember of the Ischila?_/

Obi-Wan bit his lip. /_I retain bits and pieces of lessons learnt years ago - not much, I'm afraid. I do remember, however, that the Ischila is not of Coruscant, or our surrounding worlds_./

_/Indeed. It is even believed by some that the Ischila is not of this galaxy, at all_./

_/Not of this galaxy? How is that possible?_/

_/Only a belief, padawan. And those are based on some of the powers possessed by that marble you see, floating around your head_./

_/I have read something to that effect - but we were not given elaborate explanations. What kind of...powers /_

There was a pause, and Obi-Wan felt his master approach him slowly. "Again, we have only vague references to them...aside from personal experiences. And those differ from person to person."

"Then...the Ischila can channel the Force?"

"Some do not believe this to be - but some of the Council think so, yes. Possibly because when one tries to sense it through the Force - what did you feel?"

Obi-Wan drew a breath, and closed his eyes, continuing on his probe. He sensed the little marble-like object barely a few feet from him. He could sense its movements...but that was all. It flickered into his conciousness - but seemed to vanish almost instantly.

"I can't..." He frowned, from the effort. "I can't pin it down." There it was again - a brief spike of anxiety, travelling, apparently, down his throat. /_Why can't I sense it? I should be able to_./

_/The Ischila is capable of shielding its presence./_

Obi-Wan opened his eyes in surprise. /_Then...it is a sentient being?_/

He could hear his master produce something akin to a sigh. /_That, again, is a point of debate, padawan. Some say that it is - while others argue that the technology involved in its production is so intricate that there is no knowing what exactly it is capable of. And there are others who say that it has nothing to do with the Force at all - that what one sees of the Ischila is merely the outward exhibition of its complicate mechanism. Suffice it to say that it's behaviour, sometimes, reflects that of a sentient being.He paused. It chooses to reveal itself differently, to every person confronting it_./

Obi-Wan had bowed his head, apparently deep in thought, but he suddenly raised his eyes. /_I take it that you've confronted it, then_./

A pause. /_Yes_./

_/And...?_/

_/It was...an experience to remember_./

Obi-Wan sensed his master's reticence, and had a brief image of himself knocking futilely, against an unyielding steel door. /_You're not going to elaborate, are you?_/

Qui-Gon pondered over a response appropriate enough - and one that would not bruise the apprentice's feelings. /_I wish I could, padawan. As it is, what I tell you may not be of enough help - especially, considering succeeding events_./

_/Very mysterious, master. I haven't known you to be this reticent in years_./

_/One rarely gives out all the answers to the one being examined, padawan_./

"Ah." Obi-Wan breathed deeply. He had had an inkling of what was coming - and he had been right. "I see. It is a test, then?" _What kind of a test, though? _

Qui-Gon pursed his lips, strolling along the training-mat. "We face our trials everyday, Obi-Wan...out on missions, inside the Temple - every standard day, every hour. Each experience teaches us something - something for the future. Something that may, in later years, determine the very essence of our existence. A lesson learnt now, may tip the scales - it may aid us years from now. We do not often recognize it's significance when such an experience is offered to us...it seems rather pointless. Nevertheless, it has it's uses."

Obi-Wan raised his eye-brows. True, he was used to his master's unorthodox way of unravelling the facts of life - yet, it seemed that this was an extraordinarily roundabout way of doing it. "Yes." he answered, determined to be patient.

Qui-Gon seemed to understand the apprentice's feelings. "It doesn't make much sense, does it?" he asked, quietly.

The padawan hesitated. "It does - and it doesn't."

"I'm glad. I couldn't make anything of it at all - until much later."

"Tell me."

"Your path will, I hope, be easier - if my own experiences count for anything." Qui-Gon sighed, and walked back to the apprentice. "The Ischila is a complex mechanism, padawan. It's origins are lost in the mists of time - it is said that the Ischila - many of them - were created by a tribe of extra-ordinary skills, called the Irraba. At least, that is what the Temple records say - and we have no reason to doubt them. And there are others who, as I said earlier, believe that they are not of this galaxy at all - but that argument is for another time and place. The Irraba seem to have been something like the Jedi - they were force sensitive, and had elders who possessed considerable skill in the Force. How or when they died out, it is not known - but die out, they did. The Ischila is all left of them, now - their legacy."

"I see."

"In the beginning, the Ischila were many in number, floating around in all parts of the galaxy - a collector's item, and with intrinsic value. The word 'Ischila', literally means, 'Jewel of the Light' - though they were sometimes referred to, colloquially, as Jewel Marbles. Eventually, though, as the Jedi grew into power, it was determined by the Council that the Ischila could not be left in the hands of the unscrupulous - they were systematically acquired by the Temple, and placed into safe-keeping."

Light began to filter, as it were, into Obi-Wan's mind. Pieces of information he had gleamed in dusty data-pads seemed to align themselves together, with what his master told him. "The Ischila...influences the mind."

"That is an understatement." Qui-Gon paused. "In some way, it actually draws out the power of it's user's mind - magnifies it manifold, and...redirects it towards the one out of whom such power was drawn. For an ordinary mortal, it contains a great deal of power, in the beginning - and then, ultimately, destruction. For a Jedi...the stakes are considerably higher. We possess abilities - abilities that are not in evidence among other life forms. What could cause moderate damage in their hands, would cause immeasurable destruction, in ours. The Ischila would reflect goodness - but it has a natural tendency to magnify...the dark."

Obi-Wan stared at his master, astonished at the implications, yet fascinated by it. "The...dark side?"

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. "For this reason, the Ischila is always locked away in the Temple's Artefacts section, and is almost never displayed - in the wrong hands, it could cause havoc. But sometimes..." he paused. "On rare occasions, the Council grants permission to a select one or two, to confront it. It requires a minimum of four members to approve it for a Knight - in your case, it was six, as you're an apprentice - even then, it required me to...swing the vote, as it were."

Obi-Wan stared at the ground, thoughts flashing through his mind at random._ The Ischila. Power. The Mind. Magnify. Redirect. Destruction. Me. _

"Why?" he asked, finally. "Why me? Why now?"

_This is becoming more difficult_, was Qui-Gon's brief thought, as he looked at the slender nineteen year-old, blue-green eyes intent on the little marble dancing around them. _Was I wrong in bringing this up, at this time? Perhaps I should have waited until he attained Knighthood... _

_/I don't think Knighthood would make much difference. A test is a test, regardless of when I face it./_came his padawan's voice.

Blast his shielding. /_If you were a Knight, your education would have been complete. You would be surer of yourself_./

_/Are you implying that I'm **not**, at this point?_/

_/No, padawan. Merely that I did not want you to.../_

Quite suddenly, the picture assumed clarity in Obi-Wan's mind. His master wished to know if he could confront darkness. He was strong in the Light, he was much above his peers as far as combat skills and other abilities went, he was well on his way to become an accomplished Jedi. But would he be able to battle his inner demons...especially when they manifested themselves outside? Would he be able to battle...the darkside?

"I will never fall, master." the words were quiet, vibrating with fervour.

"I merely wanted to prepare you for...the possibility of other forces influencing you."

Master and apprentice looked at each for a long moment, each trying to assess the effect of the words on the other.

_/I do not doubt your inherent loyalties, padawan. Never think that I do. That was not my intent_./

Obi-Wan felt his master's faint sense of guilt, and an abundance of affection, over their bond. He let the feelings wash over him, revelling in their warmth.

_/I know that you did not intend to_./Obi-wan paused, trying to gauge his master's emotions more accurately. /_You want to ensure...my safety. To know that I will be protected_./

_/Yes. To know that you will be safe, no matter what the temptation - what the influence. To give your sub-conscious the gift of knowledge - that it is possible to win over evil. That if it can be done once, it can be done again_./

Obi-Wan blinked. Blast. Were those tears, prickling away behind his eyes. /_Are you so certain that I **will** face all this?_/

Qui-Gon's eyes were distant, apparently looking at nothing. /_Times are uncertain, my padawan. We are Jedi - and we are often required to face the unthinkable, win over impossible situations_./

_/**You** never had to face the darkside_./

A chuckle. /_I have faced my demons many times, padawan. And the Ischila played a large part in my being able to overcome them. It gave me a strength that very few things or memories did_./

_/And yet, even the Jedi confront the Ischila very rarely - few are allowed to_./

_/That is true_./

Obi-Wan felt his master's hand on his own. Their fingers were laced together, in a firm grip.

_/You see, my Obi-Wan...the more the power - the harder the test_./

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, feeling oddly overwhelmed. _Trust his master to come up with something like this. The more the power... _

"What must I do? Take it with me on a mission?"

"The Ischila cannot be allowed off the Temple complex, padawan. No, your test will be much more simpler. You will fight it."

Obi-Wan's eyes flew up in surprise. "Fight it."

"Yes. With your lightsabre."

"_That's it_?" His tone was incredulous.

"Remember that this is the Ischila, padawan. The 'Jewel of the Light' is capable of more surprises than a band of Cordian pirates put together."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Indeed."

_/You will be fighting with more than your lightsabre, Obi-Wan_./

Obi-Wan stared at his fingers, interlaced with his master's own, for a long moment. _He hasn't let go. _

When the apprentice spoke a few moments later, his tone was final. "I'll do it."

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for all the comments -) Am glad you're enjoying this! 


	5. Part 5

**A/N:**

**_Thanks for the lovely comments._**

**Pokey1984**: Well...your curiosity should be assuaged, by now. In part, at least -)  
**master kaym**: Your command has been obeyed, Master -)  
**rkccs**: Thanks. -)  
**SoloKenobi**: Thank you!  
**jedi keliam kenobi**: (grin) Glad you're enjoying it.  
**Padawan Sydney Bristow**: I hope the succeeding chapters keep you as interested. -)  
**Shadow131**: So sure, are you? You might be surprised...-)). Keep your flag ready, anyhow - Kenobi's going to need all the support he gets.-)  
**Yasona Black**: The SW books! Whoa. That **is** a compliment, I think. I've never read any of the JA books. Really. looks at stick warily Um. Ah.Um...all right, all right I'll write more!

Now,what you've been waiting for...hopefully.

* * *

**Part 5 **

_"Ready for this, is he?" questioned Master Yoda. _

_Qui-Gon smiled at the faint trace of concern in the wizened master's voice. "I believe so, yes. What he learns now will be of immense benefit to him." _

_"Immense benefit, yes. Only on passing the test." _

_Qui-Gon frowned. "He will pass it. I know Obi-Wan." _

_"Hmm. Yet, wish this for him, do you?" _

_Qui-Gon drew a deep breath, rose, and began to pace the rather constricted quarters of the oldest Jedi living. "I've told you my reasons. I wish him to be...prepared." _

_"Why?" _

_The simple question brought him up short. Qui-Gon drew a hand across wavy strands of chest-nut hair, and gazed at Yoda, seemingly calm and collected. His eyes, though, gave away his inner turmoil - they were a stormy, intense, blue. _

_"I..." he stopped, surprised at his loss of words. _

_Master Yoda cast him a keen glance that seemed to absorb everything, yet gave away nothing. "Fear for him, do you?" _

_Qui-Gon shook his head. "No. It's strange, but I don't have that fear. I may have entertained doubts about others - even Obi-Wan, during our early years together. But I did not know him well, then. I do, now. He will not fail - not in that sense. But I do fear the future..." he paused, stepping hesitantly into the next few words. "His future." _

_"Sense danger, you do? For Obi-Wan?" _

_Qui-Gon considered the import of his words carefully, before he uttered them. "I have never had the gift of prescience, Master...my strength is the Living Force, and I know it. I have not had visions, as other Jedi do - but I have never regretted it. The Force speaks to me in other ways." _

_"Regretted it, we have, often." Master Yoda's eyes were twinkling. _

_Qui-Gon smiled. "I daresay. Obi-Wan is different. He, I imagine, would be a delight to the Council - he is firmly bound to the Unifying Force - and has a gift for prescience. If anyone must have visions, it ought to be Obi-Wan." _

_"Has he?" _

_"Not that I know of. And I would have known." _

_"Yet, uneasy, you are. For him." _

_"His improvement in the past few months has been phenomenal. I knew he was gifted - but not even I expected such leaps and strides in his training. " He paused, weighing his words. "I do not think I am wrong - but I sense...greatness in store for him." _

_Yoda's eyes softened. "Doubt padawan Kenobi's prowess, I do not. Trust you, he does. As always." There was a brief pause. "Filled with light, is your apprentice. More so, than others his age." _

_"And therein, my master, lies the reason for my unease." _

_"Much darkness, his light will attract." _

_"Yes." (900 years- and his precision is still intact). "And I wish him to protect himself. I do not know where and when I began to feel so - but I wish to know that he will not be...coerced. I do not wish his light...tainted. And that is where I thought the Ischila might help." Qui-Gon's thoughts flickered briefly towards another apprentice who had taken the easier route - before he brought his attention forcefully to the present. _

_"Too much the Ischila is, to ask of any padawan. Even yours." _

_"My instinct tells me that he must be prepared." _

_Yoda seemed to heave a sigh. "Doubt not your instincts, then, padawan mine. Prepared, he will be." _

0000000000000000000000

"Master?"

The voice interrupted his thoughts - and Master Qui-Gon brought his thoughts to the present, to his apprentice - from the conversation that had taken place the day before.

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan had activated his light-saber, and was standing in the centre of the training - mat, as though preparatory to duel. "May I start now?"

Qui-Gon hesitated, guaging the tiny marble that still hovered in the apprentice's line of sight, as though lazily contemplating him. Obi-Wan was squinting at it, his hand rising imperceptibly, bringing the blade up. "Padawan, don't -"

Almost at the same moment, the marble zinged to a point above the padawan. Surprised, Obi-Wan threw up his head - too late.

The speed at which a flurry of energy bolts flew at him staggered him. Obi-Wan barely had time to react, as he felt the fusillade rain down at him - his hand seemed to move sluggishly, even as he felt the bolts slam into his body. The Force seemed to draw itself around him, flexing itself - and a solid wall of pain battered its way through his mental defences.

_Oh force_, he gasped, feeling his equilibrium failing._ I can't... _

As though in slow-motion, Master Jinn, already sprinting towards his apprentice, watched helplessly as the padawan fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, unconscious.

* * *

**A/N**: Gulp. (waits for more sticks) 


	6. Part 6

**A/N:**

**Shadow131**: Give the poor boy some time to - er - recuperate, or something -)  
**jedi keliam kenobi **:(grin) Us writers love reader-torture, that's why-) Sharp cliffs, aren't they? Dry your tears, next part's up!  
**amber75**: I did toy with the idea of letting another day or two pass, before I posted the next (chuckles) guess I'm not that inhuman.-)  
**master kaym**: Ah, master. Your wish is my command. (regarding this post, at any rate-)  
**rkccs** : Thank you.-)  
**A. NuEvil**: Poor you, indeed. Cliffies are always horrible when you're the reader. On the other hand...-)  
**SoloKenobi**: You'll know, soon. -))  
**Yasona Black**: Ahh! (faints) this was your favourite! Wow. (bows humbly) Thank you-)  
**Laura of Maychoria**: Good of you to drop in. -) I liked writing Qui this way too - I'm sure this is what he was like, in truth.  
**Rieyeuxs** : And you'll have more - for your infinite patience -)

* * *

**Note**: Healer Han'yaie belongs to Layren, on the JC forums. Just borrowed him for this fic 'cause I like him so much -)

* * *

Hope this'll end your hanging stint on cliffs... 

**Part 6 **

"...certainly seem to...outdone himself, this time," came a voice hoarse with age, and seemingly - experience.

Obi-Wan Kenobi clutched at vague tendrils of consciousness, trying to heave himself upto the pinpoint of light that seemed to flicker tantalizingly, so far way in his mind - and kept slipping. It was imperative that he wake up soon - he had something very important to do.

_What, though? _

Something to do with sparring. His Master. And a marble. _Why a marble? _

Besides, the darkness was much too painful. He remembered that very well, indeed. Something akin to being mowed down by a herd of ...what were those creatures, again? Force, he was too tired to remember.

_So tired_. He tried flexing his little finger as an experiment - only to give it up, as he could hardly feel it. His mind felt like a flimsy piece of cloth tossed into a gale in full force - limp and shredded. Small wonder, that his body refused to obey its commands. There didn't appear to be much left of his mind, anyway. Not worth waking up.

On the other hand, Qui-Gon usually had plenty to lecture about, with respect to apprentices prone to sleep at odd hours of the day. Himself being a morning person, it was not to be expected that he would understand the comforts of lolling about in bed after the sun rose. _Pity, really_. And so...he would _have_ to get up.

If only this exhaustion, crippling him, would leave. He should be able to accomplish at least that much.

_Wake up, Obi-Wan Kenobi_, he told himself severely. _Jedi apprentices cannot afford the luxury of lying around all day. They're supposed to spar with their masters, and learn the ways of the Force... _

"...should have...woken up by now," came another voice - a voice that sounded strangely familiar, and he felt someone's fingers brush his face gently. Another of the healers? No, he knew that voice - even the inflection of worry it now carried. He heard it a hundred times each day - no, a thousand. Sometimes, he heard it inside his head too. He never tired of hearing it, he remembered.

/_Obi-Wan...?_/

There it was again. Inside his head, as he had known it would be. Pulling at him now, telling him to wake up, to open his eyes, to look around him. Except that he couldn't.

/_Can't move_./ He replied, barely aware that he was answering. /_Too painful_./

/_I know_./ Came the voice again. _How very understanding of it. _

A moment later, he was startled to feel a rush of warmth inside him - a wealth of feeling, assurance, strength and affection course through his battered, injured mind - spreading a soothing balm onto his shredded nerves. Surprised, he held back, vague memories of pain rushing at him - but he was soon overwhelmed, as he felt the touch reassure him, pushing at his frail mental barriers, coaxing him into letting it in. What did it matter,anyway?

_By the seven sith-hells of Pogoria, this **does** feel good. _

The pain had receded considerably by now. It still existed somewhere, in a less-accessible corner of his mind - doubtless, preparing to haunt him during another weak moment. For now, however, it had been vanquished - beaten by that warm presence in his mind, a presence that still lingered, as though assuring itself of the strength of his own mind, feeling for any more damage, anything else that it could heal. He breathed a sigh of relief, as he felt his body relax.

/_Better?_/ Came the voice again. Perhaps it had heard his comment about sithhells - it sounded faintly amused. After all, he never did swear - not within his Master's hearing, at any rate.

/_Yes._/ He answered instantly.

"...should wake around now," came the same, familiar voice again.

And this time, he did wake up. To look directly into deep, gentian-blue eyes - eyes that seemed to be engaged in an exploratory expedition of his own, he knew. And he smiled. It was an effort to do so - but he attempted it, nevertheless.

The gentian-blue eyes relaxed, at once. Infinitesimally small wrinkles appeared around them at once - and Obi-Wan realized, rather belatedly, that the owner of those eyes was smiling too.

"You have not lost your touch yet, young one," came a dry voice. "No doubt, you'll be pleased to know that you're still an adept at giving me near-fatal heart-attacks. "

Obi-Wan attempted a chuckle as he saw Qui-Gon sit back in his chair beside the bed, his examination of the padawan now complete. "I believe in constant practice, master," he replied, noting that he was in the Healer's Ward - with Healer Han'yaie standing a little away from his bed, apparently busy with his own apprentice over some kind of medication. For him, in all probability. "How long has it been?" He asked.

"Seventy-four minutes, padawan," came the answer and, in spite of the light tone, Obi-Wan recognized easily, the barely concealed tension that was beginning to drain away from the master. "How do you feel now?"

"Tired," he replied truthfully, relaxing on his pillow. "But my head has stopped feeling like being run over, now. Thank you," he smiled.

"Don't mention it," smiled the master, in return. "At any rate, I guessed you must feel better, if you could swear by sithhells."

Obi-Wan knit his brows, trying in vain to assume an expression of severity. "I wasn't to know that you would come creeping in, " he spoke, adjusting his position on the bed. "Kindly forget that I ever made that remark, master."

"I have no intention of doing so, young one. Aside from wishing to know where you picked up such a hideous phrase, I wish to store it in my own memory for posterity - one never knows when such - er - colourful expressions will prove useful."

Obi-Wan broke into laughter at that - as it had been calculated to. His body still ached - the residue of what he had endured - but he appreciated Qui-Gon's attempts at lightening the situation, and was thankful for it. The Force knew he had enough to think about - the marble that had haunted his subconscious mind, for one thing. Imperceptibly, he withdrew from the banter, gazing sightlessly at some point of the stark, white ceiling.

Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan's face lose some of its colour. Confirming that the healer remained outside listening distance, he spoke in a low voice. "If it will make you feel any better, padawan - the Ischila conforms to no particular method of attack. It's tactics are vicious, unfair, and unexpected." He shifted uneasily. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am, young one. I ought to have warned you-"

"You were going to," Obi-Wan countered, well aware of the mortification radiating from the master, and trying to assuage it. "I heard you start saying something - but I didn't...listen." _Thereby disregarding the first two cardinal rules of combat - focusing on my opponent, and following my superior's instructions_.

Qui-Gon stared at the floor, frowning a little as he mentally reviewed the scene that had taken place. "To tell the truth, padawan - I did not quite expect this, myself."

Obi-Wan turned slowly, raising his eyebrows.

Qui-Gon leaned forward, tracing gentle fingers through the apprentice's auburn locks. "As I said before, the Ischila's methods are unexpected. My own first confrontation was vastly different," he paused. "And, I have to admit, not this vicious."

Obi-Wan looked at his master, surprised. He opened his mouth as though to reply - and closed it, as Healer Han'yaie approached them. The apprentice turned to his master, one eye-brow raised as if in question - to which Qui-Gon shook his head imperceptibly.

"Well, padawan - it appears that you've perfected the art-form of arriving at the healers in a battered condition," began the healer, his eyes twinkling as he made a swift, thorough examination of the young man.

"I've learnt from the best, after all," murmured Obi-Wan casting a glance at Qui-Gon, who threw a mock-frown at him. "Will I be here long?"

"That," spoke the healer, measuring a dosage of what was probably a pain-killer, preparatory to injecting him, "will depend on how quickly you recover." He looked down at the young man, eyes taking in the pallor of his skin, and the bruises on his arms - and there was a faint trace of puzzlement in his demeanor. "Although I have to say that, considering the condition in which you were brought in - your recovery has been quick. I didn't expect you to regain consciousness for another hour, at the least."

"I was helped," Obi-Wan replied, wincing a little as he felt his neck moved slightly.

"So I gather," was Han'yaie's answer. "And it has done you good." He threw a warm glance at Qui-Gon. "Another day, and he should be up on his feet."

Had he not felt incapable of moving any of his limbs, Obi-Wan would have bolted upright. As it was, he had to content himself with a horrified glance at the healer. "Another day? A standard day? _A whole twenty four hours_?"

"A thousand four hundred and forty minutes, eighty-six thousand and four hundred standard seconds, yes," came the dry answer. "I understand your need to be up and about, Obi-Wan - but are you sure your limbs would co-operate?"

Obi-Wan considered this question, and was forced to accept the fact that they probably would not.

"I knew you would see sense - if I managed to drum it into you long enough," smirked the healer. "Besides, if you wish to resume your sparring activities as soon as possible - then you must rest a day."

The healer ran his eyes down Obi-Wan again, the puzzlement he had felt earlier seemingly on the return. "Although I can't see how you managed..." he paused, as though weighing facts in his mind. Finally, he sighed. "A day it shall be. And no conversation, please - telepathic or otherwise. I'm aware of your need to converse endlessly about strange and other-worldly padawan training enterprises, but when I say a rest, I usually do mean a complete rest." He shook a finger at both master and apprentice, as he moved away, smiling.

Qui-Gon raised an eye-brow, and Obi-Wan sighed, resigned to his fate.

* * *

_Tbc..._


	7. Part 7

**Yasona Black**: And here you are :-)  
**jedi keliam Kenobi**: (eyes glaze over) have updated, mighty jedi...  
**amber75** You bet he does:-)  
**DarkKnight92**: Wow, thank you. :-)

**Part 7  
**

"Master?"

"Yes?"

"What was your first confrontation with the Ischila like?"

Qui-Gon paused before answering. Master and apprentice were now on their way to their own quarters, a day after Obi-Wan had been confined to the Healer's ward. True to his word, the apprentice had spent the whole of that day resting, flitting in and out of sleep. He had been rather apprehensive of the spectres he might meet in his dreams - thankfully, he had been spared any, due to his master's earlier healing energies, coupled with Healer Hanyaie's medication, he suspected.

Awake, however, his mind couldn't help but revert again and again, to the Ischila, and the final moments before he had lost consciousness.

_I should have felt that coming,_ he thought, frustration seeping through his nerves._Why? Why couldn't I?_

Amazement nearly always followed these confusing cogitations. The power contained in a tiny object the size of a youngling's marble was devastating. It was no surprise the Ischila wasn't allowed off the Temple premises...he could hardly imagine what they might have caused, centuries ago, when they had been floating around the galaxy, for the asking.

His master had certainly not exaggerated, it appeared -although, to give him credit, Qui-Gon was more a master of understatement, rather than over-emphasis of any given situation. No matter the elder's warnings - even Obi-Wan's complete belief in his master's judgement had not quite prepared the apprentice for the experience.

_I should have focused more. I should have pinned its presence. I should have...blast, how it hurt._

On the heels of astonishment and remorse came more confusion, possible tactics, strategies...and then more dwelling on the energy bolts he had felt - until the venerable chief healer, who had walked by to re-assess his condition frowned at his creased brows, considerably incensed at his inability to rest.

"I forbade any conversation because it would disturb your rest - and you drive your mind to its limits by carrying on conversations with yourself, " he had muttered. "As bad as Jinn - no, worse. He did not, I remember, insist on travelling the road to swift insanity all at once. Mine," he added, Obi-Wan thought, with quite undue emphasis. "He preferred to do it in painful instalments," he'd chuckled. Barely giving a pause for the apprentice to protest, he had then placed a firm hand on a startled Obi-Wan's forehead, and sent a suggestion of sleep so powerful that the latter had fallen asleep before said hand had been removed.

Managing to snatch a few hours of rest, himself, Qui-Gon had walked into the Healer's ward, and found his apprentice awake - but pleasantly drowsy. True, he had had to lend both ears to a diatribe from Han'yaie about obstinate apprentices who refused to listen to reason, and equally headstrong masters who indulged them far too much for their own good - but managed to dismiss most of it with an affectionate smile, that had infuriated and mollified the healer at the same time.

A day later, master and padawan had been dismissed - and they were now making slow, if steady progress to their rooms. Qui-Gon made one more discreet investigation through the Force - one of the many he had conducted through out the day, and was relieved by the re-assurance he received. His padawan was, indeed, almost completely recovered.

"Master?" Came Obi-Wan's voice again, sensing that Qui-Gon had fallen into a reverie.

"To answer your question - would you like to hear the official, polished version of what happened...or the bare facts?"

Obi-Wan raised his eye-brows, faintly smiling. "There are two versions?"

"There are. The first was a rather modified version with which, I'm ashamed to say, I regaled my age-mates - my only excuse is that I was considerably younger, at that time. No one knows the other, with the exception of Master Yoda."

The smile broadened into a grin. "Which was...?"

"Frustrating." The Master sighed. "True to the Code, padawan, I waited for the Ischila to strike first...and I waited. And waited."

"And...?"

"And there was nothing. The Jewel of the Light chose to play with me, darting all over the salle. It led me on what I can only call a wild-_golle_ chase...until Master Yoda decided that enough was enough, and de-activated it. Not a single bolt was released - and I did not use my sabre at all."

"Oh." Obi-Wan frowned, puzzling over this information. "Then why did it...?"

They had reached their quarters, and Qui-Gon's fingers flitted over the control panel. When next he spoke, the Master seemed to be weighing his words carefully. "I did tell you that the Ischila changed its tactics...in fact, I doubt if there is any kind of tactic involved, at all."

"In that case," Obi-Wan brought up hesitantly, as they walked in. "It wouldn't be of any help to do some research, would it?"

"I never said that. By all means, indulge in all the research you please..." Qui-Gon sat down on the couch in the living area. "But a word of warning: the material you will pull up is more likely to confuse you, rather than set you on a clearer path. You'll find accounts of dark and dangerous marbles, strange and unbelievable accounts and legends of possible confrontations..."

Obi-Wan elected to flop into a large chair facing the couch. "Why would confusing legends be preserved in the Temple archives?"

"Because, confusing or not, they provide some kind of insight into the Ischila's workings...besides, they're mostly for the purposes of research, and not active confrontation. Those are best done...in person."

"Know all this for a fact, you do?" Obi-Wan asked, smiling.

"I do. Since I came up with apparently the same idea you have - research."

"Ah. Great minds think alike, do they not?"

Qui-Gon raised his eye-brows. "Great minds, yes. In this particular instance, I have no doubt about the greatness of one - mine. You, my mimicking apprentice, however..." He threw a haughty glance at Obi-Wan as the latter cast a mock frown at him. "...will retire to your sleep-couch, and rest. And contemplate greatness - again, mine - in your dreams."

Obi-Wan blinked at him, eyes full of indignation, amusement, and chagrin. "Must I, Great One?"

"Yes. As you will be facing the Ischila tomorrow, again."

Qui-Gon watched the amusement flicker out of Obi-Wan's eyes, to be replaced by something akin to wariness. He sighed. "I will be supervising, padawan."

"As Master Yoda did you."

"Undoubtedly. The Ischila must not be faced without supervision - especially as it cannot be de-activated except by one who is absolutely assured of control over it."

"No one else can de-activate it, then?" Obi-Wan rose slowly, making his way to his room.

"Only two kinds of Masters can: those who have enormous Force potential, together with considerable training - the Ischila is practically unstoppable, once activated. The other kind, of course, being those who have already won the confrontation - and therefore, their powers are significantly increased. The first category, I'm sure you'll understand, is something of an...extremely rare commodity - there're Jedi with a bright Force presence, but the Ischila requires much more; luminescence, while an indication of strength, cannot translate into power. As for the second kind...well, that is rarer still - yet, it is much preferred."

Obi-Wan paused against the doorway. "I'm curious. How many Jedi _have_ won over the Ischila, anyway?"

Qui-Gon appeared to ponder the question. "Surely you mean _'Jedi who have faced it'_, padawan."

Silence reigned for a few moments, as master and apprentice watched each other.

Obi-Wan drew a deep breath. "In that case, I'll rephrase the question. How many?"

"Seven Jedi, in total - the first five, more than a thousand years ago. The sixth, approximately seven hundred and forty years ago...and the seventh was within the last two decades."

"I can guess who the last two were. And...what was the fate of the first five who faced it?"

Qui-Gon was peering at his fingers, apparently mesmerized by the numerous lines criss-crossing his palms. "They lost. Later, all of them turned...to the Darkside."

Obi-Wan appeared to be motionless by the doorway. _Oh, dear Force_.

Qui-Gon raised his head, after a while. "Considering how he must have battled the Ischila - I imagine you know, now, why Master Yoda is revered as the greatest Jedi of our times."

The answer came in a voice so low, the master wasn't even sure if he had heard it. "Yes."

Conversation ceased to exist, after that.

00000000000000000000

**Tbc...**


	8. Part 8

**A/N**

**Rkccs**: Thanks :-)  
**Jedi Keliam Kenobi**: Any more mind tricks and my brain'll become a lump of jelly – you wouldn't want me incapacitated, would you:-) But your trick's worked, anyway (feeling helpless)  
**amber75** (shudders) Have updated…  
**Yasona Black**: Chocolate! Wow. Here's your…er…bi-weekly (I hope) fix :-)  
**A. NuEvil**: Thanks…sure, he has to face it again :-). You'd better settle yourself for a long term of camping/cliff-hanging- this'll take quite a while, before it's done :-)

* * *

**Note: **You people are wonderful :-) – and therefore, a nice loooooooooooong post, to satisfy your voracious appetites. This marks the end of pre-written material…so bear with me, until I cook up the next one. 

**Note2** : Sentences within '/' indicate telepathic conversation. Sentences in plain italics indicate just thoughts.

* * *

**Part 8**

The night had passed very much in a manner Obi-Wan had expected—and dreaded. Vague and unsettling dreams had flitted across his sub-conscious mind…what was surprising, however, was that none of them had featured the Ischila. He had half-expected to be haunted all night by the specter of a bright marble chasing him from the Temple to eternity, and had been immensely relieved to find that it had spared him—for that night, anyway.

That did not, mean, however, that he could rest peacefully. The confrontation played itself out in his mind, suggesting too many alternatives, and confusing him until a headache resulted even in his dreams—at which point he had been forced to awaken.

It was, consequently, a rather different spectacle that confronted Qui-Gon when he knocked on the door to his apprentice's sleep-quarters, as dawn broke over the Coruscant heavens. Surprised to hear a murmur of welcome, he walked in, to see Obi-Wan kneeling beside his bed in a posture of meditation. His padawan did not seem to have derived much benefit from this exercise, however—faint circles ringed his eyes, and there was a translucent quality to his skin that one did not usually associate with good health.

During the early years of their apprenticeship, Qui-Gon had discovered his padawan's tendency to relive entirely too many horrible memories during his hours of sleep—and had initiated the boy into certain methods of meditation calculated to allow his mind to rest. Over the years, he had reason to believe that Obi-Wan made good use of them—too much use, in his opinion. That, however, was the bane of his existence…and what could not be cured had to be endured as best as possible. Much as he appreciated Obi-Wan's gift of foresight, he wished the Force would sometimes give the younger Jedi a brief respite.

Light filtered in gently through transparisteel embrasures, dimmed to allow just enough of it for the occupant to recognize the objects within—but only just.

"I gather that didn't go well," the master murmured from the doorway, as he watched Obi-Wan lean back against the bed with a sigh.

"Not really, no," was the brief answer. The apprentice remained in that pose, eyes closed—until he felt Qui-Gon's presence move away. "Am I early enough?" he asked with a smile, preparing to rise.

"Stay there a moment, padawan," came his master's voice, and Obi-Wan, after increasing the room's illumination, sat down, mildly surprised. He raised his eye-brows, shooting a quizzical glance at Qui-Gon as the master walked in again a few minutes later, holding something in a steaming cup.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Master Qui-Gon Jinn?"

"I am his evil twin. I defeated him in a duel, and, er…" Qui-Gon sat down on the edge of the bed, followed by a grinning, albeit wide-eyed apprentice. "Buried him under the _Ver'it_ stairway leading to the Council Chamber."

"Disposed of him, did you? It's a good thing our exalted Council members use the turbo-lift—they would have a fit, else. I ought to have guessed it—when I was greeted by a cup of something steaming, instead of being force-rolled out of bed."

"I suppose it didn't occur to you that I might ask you the same—meditating, instead of being lost in pleasant dreams at this time of the day." He handed the cup to Obi-Wan, who wrinkled his nose doubtfully at the swirling green liquid. "And you will drink that—_all_ of it—with no objection whatsoever."

Obi-Wan frowned at the cup, drew a deep breath, and poured its contents into his mouth—and coughed convulsively a moment after swallowing the liquid. "Ugh. Expect a terrible and devastating revenge—both for this, and for burying my master in such a…cavalier fashion. The least he deserved was a ceremonial robe."

"Wretch." Qui-Gon gave his padawan's braid a brief tug. "Considering your remarks, padawan," he reached towards the young man, and tipped his chin. "I assume you're feeling better."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Whatever that concoction was, it appears to have worked," he spoke. "I do feel better. Thank you." He looked up curiously. "What _was_ it, by the way?"

"I'm not certain you should know…but you're a Jedi apprentice, and are expected to bear things with equanimity, after all."

"Ugh," Obi-Wan murmured again. "I suspect that is a prelude to something truly horrible."

"I wouldn't let Master Yoda hear that, if I were you. A legacy from the ever-green swamps of Dagobah, padawan mine—a doubly distilled version, I believe, handed down to me by my own master." Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan's face assume a pained expression. "It is supposed to have powers of revival that are almost magical. Feel better, do you?"

"With respect, Master Jinn's twin, I am swiftly revising that opinion."

An echo of Qui-Gon's chuckle reached him as the master left the room. "Rise, padawan, and prepare to meet another day in the life of an adventurous Jedi."

"_How_ I look forward to it," was the apprentice's laconic answer, as he gathered his tunics and left for the refresher.

* * *

Obi-Wan elected to spend the morning hours in the Archives section—Qui-Gon having informed him that he had been placed in charge of an Initiate sabre session. The Council, it seemed, had been eager to take advantage of the master's unexpected stay—which promised to be of some duration—and had promptly pressed him into service. Obi-Wan himself had been relieved, to a large extent, from sundry duties he would otherwise have been expected to undertake—including classes on certain subjects he had elected to study in depth, between missions. 

"I wish you joy of them," had been Obi-Wan's passing comment, as master and padawan left their quarters.

"For shame, padawan," came Qui-Gon's reply. "Especially when you enjoy teaching as much as I do. I recall quite clearly, your enthusiasm over a sabre assignment you undertook two months ago."

"All a deception, I assure you. I hated every minute of it."

"Ah. That, I suppose, is why you've asked for another assignment, time permitting, next month."

Obi-Wan bit back a smile. "I—er—have my eye on one or two of that class, who seemed…especially promising."

Qui-Gon merely quirked an eye-brow at him which spoke volumes and left for the Initiate training rooms, while Obi-Wan, chuckling, continued his journey to the Archives section.

On entrance, his eyes first sought out Knight Donan—but the Artifact-Keeper did not appear to be present within those hallowed halls of knowledge. Obi-Wan made his way past various silent masters, padawans and researchers, intent on their work, and settled himself at a data terminal.

In the end, it was as Qui-Gon prophesied—all the data-chips he had managed to rout out of the library had contained lurid and perpetually vague accounts of visions, large black shapes, fear, despair and anger. Most were reports of sundry individual encounters with the tiny marble, and how it seemingly manipulated events—descriptions of which had to be read, to be believed. They had happened centuries ago, judging by the dates…and aside from a renewal of apprehension, did nothing towards assisting Obi-Wan in his quest.

_And, predictably, there're no clues as to how to defeat—or even confront it_, mused the padawan as he sat back in his seat three hours later, a finger absently stroking his chin.

One thing, it appeared, was glaringly obvious. In later reports, if one followed a chronological order, Jedi masters were mentioned in the accounts…but Obi-Wan had yet to find a report that described such an account directly, by the Jedi—any Jedi. This puzzled the padawan exceedingly; until a well-timed search of the database corresponding to the period he was searching in unearthed a fact—a section of the Jedi Temple library had been destroyed in what had been a catastrophe—during the last years of the Sith wars. A large portion of the Archives had vanished; lost in the mists of battle…what remained now was merely a painstakingly gathered collection of reports in the succeeding centuries from all corners of the galaxy. This accounted for the existence of legends, rather than facts—and the complete absence of any Jedi reports.

Another question occurred to him as he sat hunched over the terminal. Heaving a sigh, he checked his chronometer, and decided to do what he had privately termed his last resort.

/_Master ?_/ He reached out tentatively. /_I hope I'm not disturbing you_…/

The response was instantaneous. /_You are_. /

Obi-Wan pulled back at once, puzzled and mortified. /_I apologize, master…I shall ask_—/

Almost at once, the padawan felt amusement float through their bond. /_I should have laid the foundation for a joke, before I started on one. You're not disturbing me, padawan—the sabre session ended a few minutes ago. I assume you contacted me after having estimated the duration of the lesson?_/

Obi-Wan smiled, relief suffusing his body, which seemed to have tensed within a few short moments. _Force, but I'm nervous._

Qui-Gon seemed to have sensed something of his padawan's emotions. /_You know that you can contact me at any time—unless I'm in the middle of combat or some such thing…in which case you'd probably be present with me, padawan. I would have answered you, even in the middle of a saber class_. /

The smile on Obi-Wan's face broadened, and he turned away towards a window, trying to escape the intense scrutiny of a pair of junior padawans, apparently curious at the swift changes in his luminous eyes—not to mention his expression.. Telepathic conversation may not have been unheard of among masters and padawans—but it was still something of a rare accomplishment, involving considerable skill and a remarkably strong mental connection. Most master-padawan teams managed with strong emotions; brief words and images—full-fledged conversations for minutes on end, along the lines of what Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan indulged in would have proved exhausting for most. The first few months of Obi-Wan's apprenticeship had, indeed, followed the general vein common to all such relationships—until Qui-Gon had dredged up, from the padawan's mental recesses, remarkable skills that included telepathy, among other things. Long training sessions, interspersed with practice, and aided by two or three intense missions had perfected an apparently difficult accomplishment. Aside from proving to be immensely useful during difficult negotiations, it had other uses, as both master and apprentice had discovered in later years. As Obi-Wan had once remarked, telepathic abilities were of immense use during long ceremonies, which involved intricate speeches running for hours…Qui-Gon was saved the effort of memorizing unimaginably complicated rituals and phrases, without committing some error or the other—especially when aided by an apprentice who simply sat in a secluded corner of their assigned quarters and rattled off said speeches with inimitable style.

That particular technique had saved them many a time, he recalled—even earning a medal of honor from an overjoyed Governor of Radia III—which a rather discomfited Qui-Gon had accepted, albeit in a dignified manner.

/_Day-dreaming, padawan/ _Came a voice in his mind, and Obi-Wan shook himself into wakefulness. Gathering wayward strands of his concentration, he turned to the data-chips he had collected, having forgotten the padawans who still darted curious looks at him.

/_Radia III came to mind, I'm afraid_./ He answered.

Puzzlement, and then acceptance coursed through the bond. /_An interesting mission, padawan—although I can't guess what should have triggered that mission in your memory. I sincerely hope we'll have no more recourse to so many speeches_./ A few moments were spent in sharing mutual amusement, and then the master continued. /_I assume you're still in the Archive section. What was your question?_/

/_I can understand why reports of Jedi confronting Ischila a thousand years ago aren't to be found here…but I would've thought you and Master Yoda would have provided the temple with your own_./

/_Master Yoda decided that we would not, padawan. Personal confrontations along the lines of what Master Yoda and I—and now you—dealt with are not to be recorded. For one thing, each confrontation is different, and each Jedi will have to find their own way to win it. Previous accounts will not help there…and besides, the true test of the Ischila is to face it with as little help as possible. I did not record it for this reason—and neither will you_. /

For some reason, his master's last sentence filled obi-Wan with a strange sense of pleasure—and determination. /_Ah. That's why you let me access the Temple records. You knew I would find nothing to aid me, there_./

A smile. /_The only details to be recorded are the names of Jedi who actually did attempt a confrontation, the approximate period they did it in, and the end result…nothing else. Most Jedi never do attempt it, padawan…if and when do, they will have to be satisfied with information about who did so, before them. You see, it is ultimately their own heart they must look to, to find the answer_./

/_I'm not surprised only two Jedi attempted it, in the last thousand years_./

_/Indeed_./

A pause ensued.

/_Have you learnt what you wanted?_/ came Qui-Gon's voice.

/_I've gathered information—but I'm not sure I learnt anything of benefit_. /

/_That, Obi-Wan, is not for you to say—not at this point_./

/_Yes, master_./

/_Padawan_—_it is approaching the 11th hour…meet me at the training salle in the End'rehel corridor in ten minutes, please_./

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and bit his lip, allowing himself to acknowledge the little fist of nervousness that had lodged itself into his heart-that had reminded him of what was to come, all morning.

/_I shall be there, master._/

* * *

The salle was quiet. 

Obi-Wan tried in vain to quell a knot of tension that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, in the pit of his stomach.

Jedi do not fear marbles.

_I am a fool if I believe that. _

This time, he had waited until Qui-Gon gave the word, before activating his light-saber. The master had opened the silver box, released the Ischila…and had waited almost a whole minute before he abruptly moved away.

"Begin."

A part of Obi-Wan's consciousness registered the fact that Qui-Gon had walked away to the farthest corners of the salle—almost, but not quite blending within the shadows. That same part of his mind also noted, with some surprise, that the master also took care to mask his considerable Force presence in the room.

Which was all he had time to do, before the Ischila claimed his attention.

Obi-Wan stared at the small object cruising gently a few feet away from him, turning slowly, as though wishing him to see all the colors it contained within its glittering self. Occasionally, it jumped a few feet in the air, drawing his eyes along with it, testing him out, seeming to judge, from his movements, whether he really was following its apparently aimless journey through the air.

_At least it isn't blasting me out of existence. At the moment. _

Obi-Wan chased the marble with his eyes, hands holding his light-sabre in a loose hold. He stood in a posture not normally adopted in combat—feet slightly apart, limbs in complete readiness for battle—yet, his stance would not alert the casual observer that such was the case. Obi-Wan sincerely hoped that Ischila had not been alerted, either.

He tensed as the marble winged its way towards him—slowly. Eyes widening, he watched as a shimmer of energy seemed to envelope it—and braced himself for the blast that he felt sure would follow…

...but which never occurred.

Amazement, coupled with wariness shot up in him as he watched the Ischila increase its luminous presence. Abruptly, a bright tendril of light flowed from the marble, winding its way towards him. Obi-Wan backed away, holding his sabre well before him, prepared to fend off the attack.

_**Receive it.**_

The padawan blinked and shook his head. The thought had jumped into his consciousness from nowhere, and Obi-Wan wondered, for a panic-stricken moment, if it had been his master. But no, Qui-Gon, if he could be sensed, still stood where he chosen to wait. Unmoving.

He stared at the marble, eyes taking in its shimmering aura—and felt, again, the unmistakable certainty that the light was not harmful. It merely wafted around the space in front of him, waiting for his approval. It would approach him if he let it; float away if he refused. _How could I know that?_

But he did. Whatever the Ischila might be contemplating, this wisp of light that wavered before his face meant no harm. He didn't quite know how…but his Force sense had delivered its verdict.

_Besides, I will never know what it means to do, unless I let it make its move._

He lowered his light-sabre, and the light promptly wrapped itself around his head. There was no pain—merely a soft, soothing presence that seemed to envelop his mind with a certain mind-numbing quality. Was this the Ischila's way of rendering its opponent defenseless? No…he still retained his use of arms and legs, and could have moved back in a second, had he chosen to. For an object that had seemingly battered him out of his senses the first time, it seemed to be moving in an unusually circumspect manner, in its second.

_Perhaps it has sensed that I am not to be taken lightly. _

Obi-Wan frowned, as he tried to focus himself. _That thought was out of place—it's probably trying to locate my weaknesses._

Numbness notwithstanding, his mental shields, when he tested them, still stood intact. _I will not make an easy prey. _

The light seemed to sense this obstruction, for it tensed around him—which was how Obi-Wan understood the slight pressure he felt. The effect was rather of someone knocking on the doors to his mind.

_So. We test the shields now, do we?_ The padawan tightened his defenses to the highest limit Qui-Gon had taught him to, and waited.

The tendril of light left him, then, slowly weaving away from his face. For a brief moment, Obi-Wan experienced a spurt of dizziness, which left almost as soon as he had recognized it. His head cleared—the light had inflicted no damage. _What I suspected—a probe_.

This time, the attack truly started—and Obi-Wan was able to perceive the beginning.

With that, his perception ended. The padawan blocked the first blast of energy that followed the light-probe…but was unable to do much else. He spun around the salle, at first careful to keep himself on the mats, but it was soon obvious that the Ischila had no intention of keeping to the mats—or indeed, to the floor at all. Within a matter of minutes it had swept to the farthest reaches of the room, forcing Obi-Wan to follow in its wake. The padawan blazed a trail with his weapon, the blue blade leaving a stream of light as it spun around his body, protecting, defending, and deflecting seemingly endless blasts of energy.

Time lost its hold on him. A faint buzzing seemed to have enveloped the salle, as his mind swept over innumerable offensive and defensive maneuvers he had learnt and used in countless missions. His mind called out strokes, counter-strokes and feints that had proved useful, even fatal at other times; against other opponents. Strikes that had dispatched them within seconds…

…but which, apparently, had no effect over the Ischila. For every energy bolt that he defended himself from, the marble sent two, three or four blasts, directing them from all corners of the salle—or so it seemed, to his Force-numbed senses.

_I can't see it_, he told himself in despair, trying to contain his weariness and managing to turn a triple somersault which served its purpose, even if it wasn't very graceful. _I can't sense its presence. Force help me…_

He swept his sabre in front of him in an arc, avoiding yet another bolt—and almost doubled over as he felt a blinding pain on his back. Sweeping around in a classic pose adopted during the _Meitre_ Stance, he barely side-stepped another bolt that had chosen his ankle as his goal…

…and crashed to knees as a blast found its way to his solar plexus. He braced himself for the final fusillade that would send him towards unconsciousness, gripping his sabre—but none came.

_What…happened_? His mind dredged up the thoughts weakly. He felt his grip on reality loosen, as his body slumped onto the ground further. _Is that it?_

He closed his eyes wearily_. I hope it is. Oh, blessed Force, I hope…._

_I couldn't defend myself. Seven years as the apprentice to the best swordsman in the galaxy…oh, how the mighty have fallen. _

_Mighty, padawan Kenobi? _

_Not an apt choice of words._

"Padawan?" Obi-Wan barely registered his master approach, as Qui-Gon knelt beside him. "It's over—for now. I de-activated the Ischila. You had fought…enough."

"Oh." He tried moving his arm—the one that was trapped at an odd angle underneath his body, trying to protect his abdomen…and gave vent to a sound that was somewhere in between a whimper and a groan. Raising his eyes with difficulty, he stared into Qui-Gon's face, hardly daring to think of the appearance he presented.

Abruptly, he felt two strong hands slip in under him, raising him slowly off the ground. _Carrying me? Oh no, no, no…_

"The sooner we reach the healers, the better. They would be ecstatic to see us, I'm sure," Qui-Gon smiled as he looked into Obi-Wan's extremely pale face, positioning him in his arms as gently as he could. Judging by the apprentice's suddenly breathless expression, his whole body was being torn apart by pain.

"Just a few moments more," he spoke softly, as he slowly stood up, angling himself so that the padawan rested as easily as possible, against his chest. A flicker of worry swept through him as Obi-Wan's eyes glazed over.

"C…can walk, master," murmured the young man, against his tunic.

"I admire your resilience—but you will allow me to be the best judge of that, padawan."

Despite the pain that seemed to be oozing through every pore in his body, Obi-Wan raised eyes that glistened strangely—or was that a trick of the light?

"Going to…carry me to the healers?"

"Yes."

"Carried by master…nineteen years old…undignified."

"Not in this instance, young one."

"Made up your…mind?"

"I'm afraid so."

A sigh escaped the apprentice. "Thank you."

Qui-Gon watched, half in amusement and half in sympathy, as Obi-Wan closed his eyes, nestling against the master's shoulders, beginning to drift away into a half-lit land of dreamy consciousness.

The master held his apprentice closer to him, adjusted the silver box that held the Ischila safely within the numerous folds of his tunic slightly, and exited the salle.

00000000000000000000000000

_**Tbc…**_


	9. Part 9

**Note**: Sometimes,. I amaze myself . Like writing this update, for instance. :))) . To** A.NuEvil **(with your granola bars and everything – here's to your patience)**, rkccs **(it has been long – hope you won't mind ;)**, Yasona Black **(More of your fave chocolate fix!)**, Jedi Keliam Kenobi **(Put away that lightsabre !)** , amber75** (More is what you'll get :)**, Cinnamon **(Welcome)**, Hakkai – Gojyo –Goku – Sanzo **(Thanks :) and** DiabloCat **(Thank you very much!)** – you have all my gratitude, for your excellent feedback. **Without more ado, I present…

* * *

**Part 9**

Obi-Wan lay on his bed in the quarters he shared with his master, feet propped on two cushions, covered in a tangle of sheets. One hand held a rough _dreslin_ cloth, while the other held a needle, poised to prick said cloth.

His attention, however, was far away—and certainly not on the moment, as Qui-Gon would have noted, with a hint of disapproval. Not that he had sensed any such emotion from his master, following his second encounter with what he privately termed 'that sith-blasted marble.' Qui-Gon, he learnt when he had recovered consciousness, had carried him all the way to the Healer's Ward—and the Force alone knew how many knights and padawans had raised their eye-brows at such a spectacle—and had stayed with him until the healing process had begun. After a fashion.

Qui-Gon had later divulged the fact that healer Han'yaie finally knew the secret of Obi-Wan's repeated visits to said Ward—it was not possible, nor advisable, the master had said with a ghost of a smile, to keep the Chief healer of the Jedi Temple in suspense about what had prompted numerous injuries resulting from energy bolts—particularly within the relatively safe confines of the Temple. Qui-Gon had, however, preserved a discreet silence regarding Han'yaie's reaction to the master's explanation—and Obi-Wan had come to the correct, if unverified conclusion that it had not been good.

The padawan smiled as he stared at the _dreslin_ cloth in his hands, crumpling it in an absent-minded manner. Few could withstand healer Han'yaie's blistering reproaches, particularly when the healer felt he was in the right. Obi-Wan had not regained consciousness in time to hear that tirade—he wished he had been. On the other hand, if he had been conscious, he might have probably ended up defending his master…ah, well. Perhaps it was for the best that his injuries had healed within the day, and he was left with little more than a vague stiffness in his joints.

That was puzzling too. Injuries such as those he had sustained did not usually heal so quickly—

/_Padawan?_/

Obi-Wan sat up with a jerk, wincing slightly as he did so. Staring down at the cloth in his hand, he released a sigh. He had done no work—

/_How many stitches have you set?_/

Ah…er. /_I gather the lecture on Sebullian Customs is complete, then._/

/_Quite._/

Obi-Wan grinned, threading the needle for what appeared to be the sixth time. /_All that's required now is a mission to Sebullia—and you may test out your new-found knowledge._/

/_As, I'm sure, you are. I repeat, padawan, how many stitches have you set?_/

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and slumped on the bed./_Master…are you certain that stitching sessions can be a worthy substitute to meditation?_/ He still remembered his amazement, that morning, when Qui-Gon had settled him in bed; had produced the necessary implements, and proceeded, with consummate ease, to demonstrate his skills in stitchery. It was, he had realised, one of his master's latent-talents - one, which the master emphasized, worked well towards providing peace of mind - something the apprentice had longed for desperately, ever since he had regained consciousness. When and where his master had acquired this skill, Obi-Wan knew not...but of the fact that he _had_ learnt it very well, he had no doubt. That was part of the mysticism of an apprenticeship with one such as Qui-Gon - one never knew what project one might end up doing, regardless of whether it was favoured by the male or female of the species. Any species.

Qui-Gon Jinn's fascination with needle-work aside, Obi-Wan still had considerable doubts about the efficacy of a needle and thread in calming him - especially as the very basics of the skill eluded him. This, despite his reputation for nimble fingers. Force...it was _needle-work_. Try as he might, he could not keep his scepticism from rearing its head...

…and knew, at once, that the master had sensed it. /_Were I certain, my padawan, that you **could** meditate…besides, meditation does not provide all the answers, all the time. Sometimes, one needs to…improvise._/

Obi-Wan twisted his lips. /_Indeed. Am I to believe that you suspended an important negotiation process at some point, held off two or more aggressive teams, and sat down with a needle and thread to collect your thoughts?_/

He could not be sure, but was fairly certain that he heard the mental equivalent of a snort at the other end. /_So sure, are you, that I did not resort to that? I am, after all—ah—known for my unorthodox methods._/

Silence prevailed for a few seconds, as master and apprentice indulged in mutual amusement. Obi-Wan spoke then, hesitation colouring his thoughts./_ Will I be able to meditate? I'm afraid…I can't concentrate. My thoughts keep…_/ He stopped, unaware of how to continue.

/_You haven't been able to find your centre yet. _/

A small chill ran down the padawan's back, as he recalled his continuous efforts to still himself. Not even Qui-Gon's efforts to assist had helped, he remembered. _After years of practice, one would think I knew the basics well enough._

/_You're still recovering, padawan. I would advise waiting a day more, before indulging yourself in a fit of unnecessary panic._/

Obi-Wan bit his lip. /_I apologise, master. _/

/_None was necessary. And having successfully diverted my attention enough from asking about your progress with a needle, you may now proceed with your work. I expect to see a substantial amount of it done, when I get back._/

Obi-Wan chuckled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. /_You will…when I have had some success threading my needle._/

/_ A Jedi's trials are never complete._/

Obi-Wan laughed out loud. Force, but he revelled in these bursts of conversation so very much. Perhaps, he thought ruefully, it was wrong to blatantly enjoy such exchanges…if so, his master was guilty of them too—and Jedi Masters certainly knew better. Certainly, looking at the stern and unyielding profile of Qui-Gon Jinn, one would never guess that he was capable of any finer emotion. It had been an enormous surprise even to him, Obi-Wan remembered, during his early teen years. Once he had received a taste of it, however…it was curiously akin to an addiction to _Breli_ juice—one could simply not have enough of it.

He stopped in mid-chuckle, however, as a strange feeling assailed him. A numbing sensation—reminding him of the time he had been stranded in a mission on Hoth—pervaded his mind. Of a time, and place, when he would be ripped of that warmth. _Alone. Desperate. Friendless._

_Stop._ He commanded himself. _This is not the time to indulge in…'fits of unnecessary panic', as your master said only a moment ago—_

A long stretch of blackness seemed to expand before his eyes. He reached out with his mind unconsciously, trying to touch it, to see if it possessed tangible dimensions—it had none.

_I cannot go into this. And yet, I will have to. I will not survive, else. _

Force no. I can't, I can't. I will not step in, I shall fall…

A sharp voice broke through the fine mist enveloping his mind. /_Padawan. Lie back. Now. _/

/_Master? But I have been..._/

/_ You **were** shielding…_/ The master paused. /_ Breathe deeply._/

A brief shudder passed through Obi-Wan as he dropped all pretence at work, and proceeded to follow his master's instructions.

/_Master…what's happening?_/ _Must not panic. Must not. Countless missions. Worse situations than this. No Panic. No. _

/_A side effect of your encounter, nothing more. Your body and mind are mending themselves._/

/_Was that all?_/ _What exactly had his master felt?_

/_ That was all._/

A minute later. Obi-Wan felt his wayward senses returning to a sense of normalcy. Relief, and exhaustion poured themselves into him. _Force, what if this happened again? _

/_Concentrate on the present padawan—the future will take care of itself._/

Obi-wan raised trembling fingers to his face, wiping away the sheen of perspiration that had appeared. The numbness had gone—as if it never existed.

/_How do you feel, now?_/

/_Better, thank you. _/ _Not._

A moment later, he cast about for Qui-Gon's presence…which seemed to have faded slightly. Was he moving about?

As if on cue, he felt Qui-Gon's voice again. /_I was about to tell you, when…other things interrupted._/

Obi-Wan bit his lip, and forced his mind off the Ischila. /_What was it?_/

/_This might come as a surprise to you._/ Was it his imagination, or did Qui-Gon's voice hold a twinge of delight in it?

/_Yes?_/

/_ Schen is arriving at the Temple. I received news a few moments ago, and am going to meet her shuttle._/

Obi-Wan blinked. /_You are? _/

/_Yes. We'll be at our quarters soon enough, I gather. Look forward to it._/

Qui-Gon's voice faded away, and the padawan sat still, shoulder slightly slumped, eyes gazing sightlessly the endless stream of air-traffic, washed in the golden evening, on Coruscant's crammed airways. Certainly he would look forward to it. He had to.

Obi-Wan frowned. His feelings were jumbled at the moment…regardless, an insistent voice at the back of his mind said that he should feel something other than what he was feeling now. Considering who Schen was.

Schen. Jedi Knight Schenalya Den'ru…

Qui-Gon's first padawan.

00000000000000

_**Tbc…**_


End file.
